


Old Habits Die Hard

by skuldchan



Series: 極神主夫譜：The Divine Art of the Househusband [1]
Category: HIStory3 - 圈套 | HIStory3: Trapped
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff and Humor, Jack the Mercenary Househusband, M/M, Mercenary Househusband Problem-Solving Hijinks, Podfic Available, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 01:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20107222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuldchan/pseuds/skuldchan
Summary: Life as Zhao Zi's househusband isn't as easy as it seems. When a new adversary proves a challenge, Jack has to revert to his old ways.





	Old Habits Die Hard

The lights flickered to life as Jack padded silently into the room, his slippered feet stepping soundlessly across the red tiled floors. The lightbulbs emitted a muted hum as they cast off the semi-darkness of the early morning, throwing harsh, jagged shadows across the ominous array of knives that Jack had painstakingly prepared the night before. 

Today was to be the interrogation, and he expected the utmost cooperation from his victims. Which was why he had left them in the same room overnight, together with the knives, in the dark. The multitude of sharp edges was supposed to have served as a threatening reminder of what might come their way, should his subjects choose to remain noncompliant. 

Jack had never been the type to object to the occasional spot of torture when the situation demanded it. Throughout his itinerant years, moving from one job, one crime syndicate, to another, he had picked up quite a vast arsenal of techniques designed to break even the most steadfast and loyal. Each individual he had ever captured was different. Each had their own, distinct vulnerability—all he had to do was find it and press on it hard enough until they broke. It was difficult to deny that he delighted in the sport of it, the craft of balancing pain and promising relief, the manipulation of knives, batons, and emotions in equal measure, coaxing and nurturing the thin trickle of obsequence into a steady torrent. Jack was one of the best interrogators this side of the globe, and the months he had spent so far as Zhao Zi’s househusband had hardly dulled his abilities.

He eyed his subjects, projecting a casual, nonchalant ease as he sauntered up to them. They remained obstinately silent. Jack had done his research on how to get these particular types—raised entirely underground—to cooperate, and had decided that today was the day he was going to subdue them. 

Jack made a show of reviewing his implements, checking their points, inspecting their sharp, gleaming edges for any notches, any imperfections. Finally he selected a small paring knife, nothing more than a few centimeters of Swiss steel. It was a well-worn blade, a device of many uses around his workroom, though one would hardly be able to tell from how impeccably it was maintained or how the room’s artificial light glinted cleanly from its pointed tip. 

"Let's start easy, shall we?" whispered Jack with quiet menace, regarding his subjects with an intense stare and the bare hint of a sadistically playful smile. 

"Allow me to describe exactly what I plan to do, and I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to cooperate today,” he continued. “And if today doesn't work out for us, then I'll come back tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, until we have reached an agreement."

Jack paused for dramatic effect. If his captives were cowed by this not-so-veiled threat, they did not make any sound, nor give any indication. 

So, he was going to have to get tough. He could do that.

“First, I’ll need a chunk of flesh,” Jack began, “maybe half the length of my thumb.” Jack extended his arm and the finger in question with purposeful deliberation, measuring with one eye closed until he seemed satisfied that that was indeed enough. 

“And then the edge of this knife will sink into your skin, and I will peel you, layer by layer, until I’ve whittled you into the perfect shape.” 

Jack’s grin widened then, a manic light kindling in his gaze. “And that’s when I’ll carve you,” he hissed, bending down to press his face close so that they could feel the warmth of his breath, “pare you and slice you into perfectly rounded petals.” 

He paused again, this time taking a deep breath as he straightened. “So, if you remain disagreeable, then I will be forced to start over. I’ll try again, and again, and again with new flesh taken from your body until my Boss is satisfied with—”

Hesitant footfalls, the telltale tap of slippers, sounded behind Jack. He turned to see Zhao Zi standing halfway down the stairs, still squinting from sleepiness, his hair tousled on the one side where he had pressed his face into his pillow. 

“Jack, who are you talking to?” Zhao Zi asked.

Jack smiled. His boyfriend was incredibly adorable in the mornings. He almost regretted having woken up Zhao Zi early, but then he wouldn’t have gotten to see his sleepy face. “Just coaxing cooperation from your lunch,” he replied cheerily.

Tired through he was, Zhao Zi lit up immediately at the mere mention of food, and leapt down the rest of the stairs.

“What’re you cooking?” he said as bounded into the kitchen and pressed himself closely to Jack’s side.

He surveyed the scene, a neat row of four thick carrots on a cutting board. Beside it were two paring knives, a filet knife, and a santoku on the counter. 

“Are you making carrot flowers?” Zhao Zi asked with a hopeful smile. 

“You said you liked them, so I’m making them for you,” said Jack matter-of-factly. 

Zhao Zi’s smile grew even bigger, which Jack hadn’t previously believed was possible. “You’re so good to me,” he declared proudly, and stood on his tiptoes to give Jack a kiss on the cheek. “That’s very sweet, because they’re really hard to make.”

“I know,” Jack said, agreeing to both with an answering grin that matched the size of Zhao Zi's own. 

One evening when they had been on a date at a local restaurant, Zhao Zi had remarked upon the garnish on his plate, how his Second Uncle used to make pickled carrot flowers for the annual Zhao family New Year's banquet. Zhao Zi revealed that as a kid, he used to eat more of them than the actual food, filling up on so much garnish that he wouldn't even have room for dessert. 

Jack had listened intently, picturing in his head a mini-Zhao Zi stuffing his face with carrot flowers and parsley while his parents and elders admonished him to try the actual food instead—likely delicacies like baked fish, fried crab, and roasted duck. It was on a whim that he had decided to try making them himself; nothing was too hard a challenge so long as it brought a happy smile to Zhao Zi's face. 

He had yet to master the skill, despite his proficiency with knives, but practice made perfect, did it not? Trying to threaten the root tubers into obedience surely didn't hurt. 

"Do I get to have these in my lunch today?" 

"No, they have to pickle over the weekend," replied Jack. 

Zhao Zi's lips pursed in a pout. "It doesn't take that long to pickle carrots, does it?"

"It does if you want them done properly," Jack said sternly, perhaps more for himself than for his lover as he felt his resolve begin to crumble. 

Zhao Zi's widened his eyes, and his bottom lip quivered. "Please?" 

Jack steeled himself against that pleading look. "You can have as many as you want in your bento on Monday." 

"I want all of them."

"As many as you like."

Zhao Zi seemed pleased with that response. As he reached up for a second kiss, Jack turned his face slightly so their lips met. They opened for each other fondly and didn't part for a long time. If Jack had harbored thoughts of sending Zhao Zi back to bed to catch a few more hours' sleep, those hopes were well and truly dashed.

* * *

They cooked a leisurely breakfast together after sharing a shower, Zhao Zi opting to go into work later than his usual, since he had racked up so much overtime the night before. It was well on the way to noon by the time Zhao Zi kissed him goodbye on their doorstep, leaving Jack to go back to his work perfecting the craft of carving carrot flowers. 

He sighed, the four assembled carrots still arranged in an obstinate row, taunting him. He really wasn't a natural at the fine motor control required for delicate work; he was more of a shank-and-shiv kind of guy. But that didn't mean he couldn't learn. 

It took him the rest of the afternoon to manage a meager fifteen flowers, which he placed carefully in a tupperware to soak in a solution of rice vinegar, garlic, ginger and sugar. His success-to-failure ratio was now much higher than it had been in the morning, and though he was still far from the perfection he demanded of himself, he supposed he would have to be satisfied enough to put down this task and start on dinner soon.

The compost bin sitting on the counter was brimming, filled to the top with more than four kilograms of carrot shavings and failed flower discards. He didn't want to Zhao Zi to know that he had gone through that much for the few that were pickling in the fridge. 

The neighborhood compost pick-up wasn't until tomorrow night. Briefly, Jack weighed the merits of transporting the compost to another pick-up point on his motorcycle, against his first instinct, which was to dispose of the evidence in the yard. That was the usual place he was accustomed to burying proof of any of his wrongdoings. 

Convenience won out, as the afternoon was wearing on and dinner wasn't going to cook itself. 

He carried the bin out to the garden, retrieved the small gardening spade, and began digging furtively at the base of the peony bush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the incredibly talented and kind [xparrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xparrot/) and the lovely [naye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naye/) for the beta, enablement, and inspiration.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the incredibly talented and kind [xparrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xparrot/) and the lovely [naye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/naye/) for the beta, enablement, and inspiration.
> 
> This has been edited from first posting to be a complete work, so that each new scene will become a new part of this loosely-connected series of mercenary househusband problem solving hijinks.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Old Habits Die Hard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21367561) by [SkuldReads (skuldchan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuldchan/pseuds/SkuldReads)


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